A TASTE OF FLESH reduces the formula and technique of a Doris Wishman movie to just the basics, and is quite edifying and even entertaining to a convert. I wonder how an arm's length viewer (say, the typical Adult Cinema attendee back in 1967) would react?
Doris was not an experimental filmmaker, and famously trashed her own work, quite aware of its quickie/slapdash nature. No one ever handed her a decent budget, so it is a moot point what she might have created given the resources of a Sidney Lumet or Arthur Penn, both of whom graduated from similarly cheap '50s Live TV conditions to major feature films.
But within her little world of pornography she created, mainly out of necessity, one of the most distinctive styles of the '60s and '70s, earning her a deserved cult following.
Wonderfully supported by groovy '60s library music, including the long version of the familiar Something Weird "theme" song, Wishman sets all the action within a single apartment, apparently her own domicile. Not an experiment, but a budgetary decision.
Opening has an ultra-sexy (but tastefully covered up in strategic places) Peggy Steffans (Mrs. Joe Sarno) taking a bubble bath. She's a foreign visitor staying with sexy lesbian Layla Peters, latter a welcome addition to Wishman's troupe (her only other credit is a small role in FILE X FOR SEX, directed by the A TASTE OF FLESH d.p. C. Davis Smith).
SPOILERS ALERT:
Layla's roommate Darlene Bennett arrives and is naturally jealous and suspicious of the intruder. Plot belatedly takes hold with a home invasion by thugs Michael Lawrence and Buck Starr, causing the film to segue into a very low-rent THE DESPERATE HOURS.
With the help of a phony newspaper headline, we learn that a prime minister is arriving today in New York City, and the boys have been hired to assassinate him. Some very fake violence (Lawrence supposedly beating up Peggy) gets the info on exactly when he'll arrive, and Lawrence is positioned with a sniper rifle to pick him off.
Twist is that this apartment is strategically positioned directly across from the p.m.'s planned arrival point, a fact that doesn't escape Layla's attention. She realizes Peggy was playing her for a sucker all along. Twist ending is cheap but effective. Doris's ploy of repeatedly having major action taking place off-camera (with voice-over) from beyond the apartment's front door reminded me of Soupy Sales' TV show running gag at his door (easily ridiculed), but for the Wishman fan it works.
The elaborate camera angles, setups and editing make this look like a heavily story-boarded exercise, but one suspects that Doris, like Hitchcock, had the entire nonsense carefully choreographed in her head. I refer to Hitchcock not to be insulting or condescending, but rather because she shared his predilection for audience manipulation.
Shooting MOS, film has the expected poor dubbing of dialog, but the claustrophobic intensity is what matters. A very sexy lesbian dream sequence, where Layla is wearing mannish clothing (which she fortunately sheds) as she makes love to Peggy is the film's highlight.
Peggy, in real-life famously Joe Sarno's long-time collaborator and widow, is ethereally beautiful here, and I hope someday that her handful of starring vehicles (including JUSTINE and DEATH OF A NYMPHETTE) will move from the Lost column into DVD circulation. Bennett and Peters are erotically stimulating too, while Starr and Lawrence typically (among Wishman leading men) leave a lot to be desired.
Doris was not an experimental filmmaker, and famously trashed her own work, quite aware of its quickie/slapdash nature. No one ever handed her a decent budget, so it is a moot point what she might have created given the resources of a Sidney Lumet or Arthur Penn, both of whom graduated from similarly cheap '50s Live TV conditions to major feature films.
But within her little world of pornography she created, mainly out of necessity, one of the most distinctive styles of the '60s and '70s, earning her a deserved cult following.
Wonderfully supported by groovy '60s library music, including the long version of the familiar Something Weird "theme" song, Wishman sets all the action within a single apartment, apparently her own domicile. Not an experiment, but a budgetary decision.
Opening has an ultra-sexy (but tastefully covered up in strategic places) Peggy Steffans (Mrs. Joe Sarno) taking a bubble bath. She's a foreign visitor staying with sexy lesbian Layla Peters, latter a welcome addition to Wishman's troupe (her only other credit is a small role in FILE X FOR SEX, directed by the A TASTE OF FLESH d.p. C. Davis Smith).
SPOILERS ALERT:
Layla's roommate Darlene Bennett arrives and is naturally jealous and suspicious of the intruder. Plot belatedly takes hold with a home invasion by thugs Michael Lawrence and Buck Starr, causing the film to segue into a very low-rent THE DESPERATE HOURS.
With the help of a phony newspaper headline, we learn that a prime minister is arriving today in New York City, and the boys have been hired to assassinate him. Some very fake violence (Lawrence supposedly beating up Peggy) gets the info on exactly when he'll arrive, and Lawrence is positioned with a sniper rifle to pick him off.
Twist is that this apartment is strategically positioned directly across from the p.m.'s planned arrival point, a fact that doesn't escape Layla's attention. She realizes Peggy was playing her for a sucker all along. Twist ending is cheap but effective. Doris's ploy of repeatedly having major action taking place off-camera (with voice-over) from beyond the apartment's front door reminded me of Soupy Sales' TV show running gag at his door (easily ridiculed), but for the Wishman fan it works.
The elaborate camera angles, setups and editing make this look like a heavily story-boarded exercise, but one suspects that Doris, like Hitchcock, had the entire nonsense carefully choreographed in her head. I refer to Hitchcock not to be insulting or condescending, but rather because she shared his predilection for audience manipulation.
Shooting MOS, film has the expected poor dubbing of dialog, but the claustrophobic intensity is what matters. A very sexy lesbian dream sequence, where Layla is wearing mannish clothing (which she fortunately sheds) as she makes love to Peggy is the film's highlight.
Peggy, in real-life famously Joe Sarno's long-time collaborator and widow, is ethereally beautiful here, and I hope someday that her handful of starring vehicles (including JUSTINE and DEATH OF A NYMPHETTE) will move from the Lost column into DVD circulation. Bennett and Peters are erotically stimulating too, while Starr and Lawrence typically (among Wishman leading men) leave a lot to be desired.